


Put Your Head on my Shoulder

by YoroiNoKyojin



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 14:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21162923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoroiNoKyojin/pseuds/YoroiNoKyojin
Summary: Quentin looked back in remembrance on the first time he'd ever managed to fall asleep in this godforsaken place. Hearing Kate's voice was his source of comfort from that day on. Fluffy, comforting one-shot.[ Uses the song "Put Your Head on my Shoulder" by Paul Anka. ]





	Put Your Head on my Shoulder

_ **Put Your Head on my Shoulder.** _

* * *

Rain pitter-pattered on the tin roof of one of the little shelters that had been provided for the survivors; an ominous lightning flashed and thunder rumbled distantly in the black, misty sky, but Quentin didn’t mind. There were far worse dangers here in The Fog. Rain like this, that was soft and warm and made the earthworms emerge from their homes deep in the soil, was hard to come by here -- it was reminiscent of home; of a time before the nightmares, before Freddy, and before The Fog. A droplet of rain fell from the top of a gutter and gently landed in a lock of his hair. Glancing over to another shelter, he could see Dwight and Claudette silently napping. Their expressions were almost peaceful -- sleep was hard to come by around here, but it seemed that the summer rain had done the trick.

Not for Quentin, though. He never slept. Some of his fellow survivors jokingly referred to him as the Energizer Bunny because he was always awake and drank coffee more than he drank water, but the truth was, he wasn’t as energetic as he seemed. In fact, most of the time, he was irreparably exhausted... The kind of tired a decade of sleep couldn’t fix. 

Watching Dwight and Claudette sleep peacefully, Quentin remembered the first night he’d actually been able to sleep in this godforsaken place. A few weeks prior, they’d received a new companion: a girl named Kate Denson. She was the kind of person who lit up any room she walked into; the kind of person who lifted others’ spirits just by being herself. She’d been absolutely terrified when she’d arrived… and alone. Very, very alone. Many of the other survivors were too busy trying to keep themselves alive to worry about saving or comforting someone else; but Quentin… well, he figured there wasn’t much of a point to any of this if they weren’t going to work together. So he stuck close to her, showed her the ropes, and the two became good friends.

_ A few weeks after she’d arrived, he remembered sitting in this very same spot under the same shelter, alone. The rain had been much more ferocious that night, and the lightning had sounded much closer. Still, he leaned his head back against the tin wall and stared out at the woods around him, unable to sleep but feeling somewhat content anyways. Suddenly a soft, angelic voice had broken him from his reverie and he lifted his head slowly to listen; it was Kate’s voice, he could tell, and it was coming from the other side of the wall. “Put your head on my shoulder…” she sang softly, her voice sweeter than honey. Like a songbird. “Hold me in your arms, baby… squeeze my oh-so tight.” The tune she sang sounded as if it had come straight from a record player -- he could tell it wasn’t a song of this generation, but somehow that made it all the more comforting. For the first time since arriving here, he felt his eyes grow heavy as she sang.  _

_ When she got to a stopping point, Quentin quietly asked, “Where did you learn that?” _

_ There was no answer; just as Quentin was about to give up and return to his sleepless star-gazing, he heard a shuffle on the other side of the shelter wall and Kate emerged from around a corner, her blond curls frizzy from the humidity; but there was a bright smile on her lips and her blue eyes were glowing with delight. It was clear music (or at least singing) was a passion of hers. Kate moved to sit down beside him and he scooted over to make room for her in his little corner of the shelter; a corner he usually sat in alone but now had become theirs to share. And he was happy to do so; happy to have someone who wanted to sit with him. _

_ “My father taught me that song,” she finally said, still smiling. “And some others. But that one is my favorite.” _

_ “I think it’s my favorite now too,” he replied, feeling a tad bashful. Although he’d give his life for his comrades, social interactions weren’t Quentin’s strong suit. He preferred to be nose-deep in a library book over attending a party. But both books and parties were a thing of the past, it seemed, because The Fog had neither of those things — only killers whose goals were to kill them all, over and over again. _

_ But hearing Kate sing brought him peace, even if it was only temporary. Quentin felt heat warm his pale cheeks as he hesitantly asked, “could you sing it again?” _

_ Kate gave him a reassuring smile and nodded, taking a breath. Even though he’d just heard her sing, Quentin was still surprised at just how beautiful it really was. Her voice washed over him like a soft, summer cloud as she sang quietly. “Put your lips next to mine, dear — won’t you kiss me once, baby…?” _

_ That unfamiliar sensation came over him again; the heavy eyes combined with an utter peace that felt like a warm blanket wrapping around him. Safety… that was it. Her singing made him feel… safe. Something he hadn’t felt…  _

_ … well, ever. _

_ Quentin didn’t resist his body’s command. He allowed his eyes to close, his head slowly lolling over until his cheek found her shoulder. The last thing he remembered as he drifted off into darkness was Kate’s hand coming up to run her fingers through a few locks of his curly hair as she continued to sing. _

And Kate had sang to him many more times after that night. Even on his worst days, when he was still recovering from hook wounds and having nightmares about Nancy, his dad, and Freddy, Kate would sing to him and somehow he’d make it through to the next night.

Quentin moved his gaze from Dwight and Claudette’s sleeping forms to shift downwards, looking at a small square-shaped device he’d just pulled from his jacket pocket. Attached to it was a wire that eventually ended with two small earbuds. It was a small iPod that had been a gift from Kate. During one of her more successful rounds, she’d somehow managed to snag this from a room in Haddonfield. The iPod itself wasn’t too special — but what Kate had recorded on it was.

Quentin placed the earbuds in each ear carefully, turning the small device on and scrolling past the fifty other songs on it, going to the very bottom. This particular selection had become the most-played song on the iPod and had never once failed to make him sleep.

Clicking on it, he let his head rest back against the tin wall. “Hey, Quentin!” Kate said cheerfully, her voice almost mischievous. As if she was doing something she might get in trouble for. Quentin found his lips curling into a small smile. “I found this and I wanted you to have it. I always have a way to listen to music — singing, duh — so I wanted to give this iPod to you. But of course it wouldn’t be complete without your favorite song, so… here goes nothing.”

There was a pause, and Quentin could already feel the drowsiness take over. He laid the small device down on his leg and closed his eyes as he listened.

_ “Put your head on my shoulder… Hold me in your arms, baby. Squeeze me oh-so tight… show me that you love me too.” _


End file.
